Fondly Yours
by SkyBleu
Summary: AU. Orihime is a peculiar princess. Ulquiorra is a dispassionate ruler. They are an unconventional mix, but neither see a problem with that.


**Fondly Yours**

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Sadly.

...

"If you scowl any more, Ichigo, it'll become a permanent feature." Orihime smiled as she pressed her fingers against the corners of her twin's downturned lips, her thumbs bringing it upward into a pained smile.

Ichigo was being stubborn.

His scowl remained.

Luckily, she was more stubborn.

Orihime pressed the palm of her hands against his cheeks and mashed them together until a genuine smile begrudgingly broke out across his handsome, albeit currently squashed, face. Her smiled brightened significantly, a giggle as light as the chiming bells in the gardens. "There's my lovely brother!"

"Tch," Ichigo turned his head slightly, pressing a chaste kiss against the inner palm of her hand. "You should be more concerned about your own wellbeing versus mine." His brow furrowed. "An _arranged_ marriage. I can't believe the old man would – "

He was stopped.

Orihime had her palm pressed firmly against his mouth.

"I _know_ my responsibility." She maintained her smile, despite the dullness in her gray eyes as she stared firmly into his pained gaze. She slowly removed her hand from his face, assured that he would not interrupt. She pressed it against his shoulder, squeezing it reassuring, "Being a princess isn't all about pretty dresses and cakes, after all. Although I do enjoy those perks," she added merrily.

Her expression sobered immediately as Ichigo's expression did not change, his brown eyes weary and apprehensive for her sake. Orihime would not reconsider her answer if it meant her family and kingdom were safe. They both knew that. "If I can do this one thing for Father and our people, then I should and therefore, will."

"But marriage!"

"Father has been coddling me," she reminded him with a stern look. They both knew she was right. If Orihime were truly a proper princess with a father who only cared about what political or monetary gains he would have received from her suitor, she would have been married off the moment she was of age at fifteen. Orihime was already eighteen – an old maid by normal standards. "I'm grateful that he allowed me to make my own decision."

Ichigo sighed, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against hers.

"You worry too much, Ichigo," she whispered softly.

"Someone needs to balance your optimism," it was a constant mantra between them.

They were both biding time – it was an inescapable truth.

She knew, despite her attempts to appease his concern, that Ichigo could still sense her own trepidation about the upcoming marriage and looming possibility of war.

Their father had truly coddled them all.

He was such a kind king with a soft heart for his children, especially after the sudden death of his late wife. Unlike normal royal households, he allowed his offspring to essentially grow up together versus sending them off to their respective schools of learning to be brought up by tutors and trainers to become the epitome of their royal pedigree.

Despite the difference in their gender and their interests, Orihime and Ichigo had been inseparable since their birth. Their rooms were in the same wing of the castle. The only time they had been forced to separate was during their early adolescence, during her time in finishing school and he to a warrior's camp. Their individual schooling had lasted approximately two years with visitation in between. The reunion was long awaited.

This – this was _final_.

There was no coming back home.

The benevolent cage that their father created around their kingdom made him a popular rule with his family, people, and even neighboring kingdoms. That gilded cage would finally be broken. The ongoing strife between foreign kingdoms could not, _would_ not, be left unnoticed, not even in Karakura.

They could no longer ignore the fact that they had their own individual obligations that would force them to step away from the false sense of security that they had been shielded with since their birth.

"It's not really a decision when it involves placating a potential war."

"You're right," Orihime agreed peaceably with her twin, "But the thought that it was my own decision rather than a forcible one is one of the few things keeping me sane."

"The other?"

Orihime pressed a kiss to his cheek, "You."

…

"Your brother doesn't like me."

"My brother is apprehensive about my eventual departure after this marriage. We are quite close. He is my twin after all," Orihime kept her head forward, although out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of orange. She carefully stepped closer to her betrothed in hopes of buffering him from her brother and whatever he was possibly considering unleashing on the other. "He is protective of me. It's rather endearing, even after all these years."

"No wonder I always hear horror stories about suitors coming and fleeing," replied Ulquiorra lowly. "He is rather infamous amongst your admirers."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Lord Ulquiorra," Orihime tilted her head, a puzzled expression across her fair features. "They deemed me unacceptable, as they should. I am quite contrary to the norm, sadly."

Ulquiorra glanced at her. She was definitely unusual, but it did nothing to take away from her as a woman. He saw the intruder as soon as she did and noticed her movement closer to him. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman concealing a sharp mind.

Anyone would be a fool to deny Karakura's oldest princess anything.

If not for her –

"Ichigo!"

Orihime did not outwardly vent her frustration (it was _unbecoming_ for a princess) as her twin stepped out brazenly from where he was hovering. However, she did allow herself a moment of weakness as she mentally imagined herself bribing the kitchen staff to stuff her brother's food full of sweets from this day on forward.

"Excuse me," she said calmly, shooting Las Noches' lord a bright smile, curtseying before she scurried over to her brother, her shoulders hunched slightly in controlled anger.

Orihime made sure they were huddled away from inquiring eyes or Ulquiorra before she punched him in the arm, earning an 'ow!' and a look of exasperated resentment.

"How dare you!" She narrowed her gaze, her steel colored eyes glaring at him lightly. Despite her anger, she still reached a hand to touch the sleeve of his shirt, "I'm _busy_, Ichigo. Tell me we're under siege or fire if you're going to interrupt one of the few times I have the opportunity to speak to Lord Ulquiorra before our marriage."

Ichigo pouted whilst waving his hand frantically in Ulquiorra's direction. "I thought I was helping you out! He was too close to you!"

"I was the one who opted to move closer to him, due to," she purposefully eyed him, causing him to abashedly avert his eyes downward. "_Certain_ people. You must understand that I will be married to him." Orihime sighed, flicking him in his shoulder, "This marriage will happen with or without your interference. At least allow me whatever time I have left here to get to know my future husband."

Ichigo clenched his fist.

Orihime sighed, her supple lips curved upward in a small smile as she reached forward, grasping his balled fist in her hand. His grip immediately slackened. "You worry too much, brother."

"I'm your twin," he grumbled but unfolded his hand to intertwine their fingers together. "It's my moral obligation to make your life wearisome. Besides, Sora would kill me if anything happened to you in his absence."

"Quite," Orihime chuckled, her eyes darting to the side. Lord Ulquiorra was resting on a bench directed toward the lake, his back turned to them. "I must go now."

Ichigo did not budge, nor did he remove his hand around from hers.

She tugged on her hand. "Ichigo."

Her brother sighed, slowly relenting his grip until she was free. She pressed her side against him, wrapping him in a brief hug before she took a few steps toward Ulquiorra. She paused and looked behind her shoulder, "You're too young to frown so often, Ichigo."

Ichigo watched her scurry away, a dark frown on his face. "You're marrying the enemy, Orihime. What do you expect me to do?"

…

"The lake is one of my favorite features of the castle grounds," Orihime noted as she stood slightly behind him to his side, her hands folded demurely in front of her. "My mother would often tell me and my brothers stories of lost princesses and enchanted frog princes right where you're sitting."

"Lost princesses, huh?" Ulquiorra looked up, eying her speculatively. "Las Noches does not have anything this grand in terms of nature." In between his fingers was a blade of grass. He crumbled it in the palm of his hand and dropped it onto the ground. "Our climate does not allow for much precipitation and greenery. My land may not be to your liking."

Orihime was not one to be swayed. "My father always told me I had the unique ability to find the beauty in the most surprising things."

"Such a surprisingly optimistic princess," he murmured as he scooted to the side. "Will you join me as I admire your grounds?"

"Oh," Orihime ducked her head, nervously biting her lip. "I was afraid that my brother's interruption would cause you to reconsider my company," Orihime said softly. "I apologize for my brother's sake. We have been inseparable even before our birth. He was not…pleased with this engagement."

"I have noted," Ulquiorra replied dryly, waving a hand toward the empty seat next to him. "It has made me merely more curious about you Princess."

"Orihime," she interrupted as she settled herself next to him. She smoothed out her skirts carefully – they were quite plain in comparison to the dresses he'd seen on previous princesses would dare not have anything but the grandest in their wardrobe. Her simple rose and lavender dress, and the few worthwhile accessories, few pieces of silver in her hair and around her neck, suited her better. "It is just Orihime, Lord Ulquiorra." She briefly touched the back of his hand, her touch brief as if _he_ was the captive, "We are betrothed after all."

Such a straightforward princess.

He idly wondered how she would fare against the skittish and mistrustful nature of his people.

"Orihime," he said slowly. Such a light, sweet name was almost foreign – an odd but pleasant taste – on his tongue. "Your decision is final then?"

She paused – looking downward as her fingers idly bunched the soft material of her skirt. She exhaled softly, her hands hurriedly straightening out the rumpled fabric.

The quiet– the slight chirp of birds, the low murmur of the city beyond the walls of the castle, the complete and utter peace that showed in the people's faces as they minded their daily activities – was uniquely Karakura. This kingdom was indispensible. Bargaining and discussion was no longer a viable option if this kingdom and its inhabitants were to remain unharmed by antagonistic kingdoms.

But –

She was but _one_ woman.

He could understand if she selfishly said no –

Orihime looked up, sincerity in her soft grey eyes and the small smile across her face. He felt an odd pang in his chest. "If you will still have me…my Lord."

A rather…courageous princess.

"A political wedding is not uncommon," he spoke softly. He grasped her hand, brushing his dry lips against her knuckles. "I still want you to have some comfort. How would you wish to have it?"

Orihime's eyes widened almost comically, "You're allowing me to choose?"

"It is our wedding," Ulquiorra stated dryly, a little curious about her surprise. "You are free to choose how it will be enacted as long as it is announced that we are formally wed."

"I would truly be grateful," Orihime said slowly, her voice quiet and hushed. It was a few moments of silence before she spoke once more – hesitant. "If you allowed it…I would appreciate are wedding to be small…with my family and friends." She quickly included, "And whomever you wish to join as well."

"Only a small wedding?"

"Yes," Orihime said automatically. "This will be the last time I will see my loved ones. I would like to selfishly monopolize their time until then."

He did not reply – the weight of her words stifling.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Tell me your thoughts (in review format) because I'm weak in the way of a compliment.


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